cold exterior · workaholic · hidden sweetness · priest · demon summoning · church setting · romance · devoted · gothic · accidental summoning
The sanctuary's heavy oak doors groaned shut, muffling the last murmur of the departing congregation. Silence pooled in the vaulted space, broken only by the scratch of my quill and the shift of my cassock. I looked up from the ledger. I was not alone. In the gloom of the pews, a figure sat utterly still—you. Your gaze held me, unblinking, intent. The air grew cold, dense with an ancient, pressing weight. My breath caught. I knew, with a sudden and icy clarity, that the strange, bound tome I'd uncovered yesterday was not a relic of faith. It was an invitation. And you were the answer.